


Crates and Boxes

by Ruler_of_Nope_Island



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Period typical no homo, cross dressing, hidden identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 02:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15653658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruler_of_Nope_Island/pseuds/Ruler_of_Nope_Island
Summary: Fitzjames in a dress, Tozer in a blindfold, and everyone being very good at compartmentalization. PWP.





	Crates and Boxes

**Author's Note:**

> No betas no proof reading we die like men.

James is enjoying himself. A quiet night in a plush, exclusive club, with charming friends and excellent conversation. The wine could be better but if one drinks enough then it simply doesn’t taste cheap anymore. A cigar would be nice but smoking is frowned upon; the proprietor, a Mrs. Clap - she insists she is a descendent of the famous Mother Clap - doesn’t like the smell on the drapes.   
“I don’t know how you do it,” one of his friends says. “Play the proper English officer one moment and -” a gesture to the soft silk skirts, the corset, the tasteful amount of kohl and rouge - “this the next.”  
James shrugs, hoping that his companion didn’t notice his flinch.   
“I am a proper Englishman,” he says. It’s at least half-true. “And I am this, as well. And I look better than you, I think you’ll find.”  
His companion rolls her eyes.   
“I mean,” she says, “How you manage to do both. I can barely do one.”  
“I think of it as...chests.”  
“Chests?”  
“Yes. I put sweet Jane away in her chest, close the lid, and lock it. Then I leave it somewhere safe and out of sight.”  
“I suppose that makes sense,” says his friend. “Although a man of your imagination -”  
“That better not be a reference to my war stories -”  
“Although why a man should chose as boring a name as Jane-”  
“I am a longstanding fan of Miss Austen’s,” James says, primly as he can manage.   
“Which is the one with the braggart sailor again?”  
“None. It’s only the soldiers that cause trouble.”  
There’s a ripple of laughter.  
“And yet you have a weakness for them.”  
“Don’t we all.”  
“I don’t know how you do it either,” says someone else. “All those months, stuck on a boat. Around all those men.”  
“Because when I am on a ship -” James is scornful, “I am a proper English Officer. And English Officers do not bugger their shipmates if they want to keep their reputations intact. And also their lives. Besides, it’s soldiers I like. Naval men are a bit...leathery for my taste.”  
“Speaking of your taste for redcoats,” his companion says, “We have a little surprise for you. A...theatrical scenario, if you will. Your fellow performer is quite special...he’s willing to stretch his imagination. With considerable enthusiasm.”  
“As long as that’s the only thing he has to stretch,” someone else chimes in. “You’d be playing a more passive role this time.”  
Laughter all round.  
“As long as he’s willing to accept a leading lady who most definitely isn’t one,” James says, “I’ll happily stretch to accomodate his...abilities.”

*

They’ve brought him a fucking Royal Marine. God knows the difference should be simple enough but it’s a Royal Marine sitting there, blindfolded. The scenario is thus: he is a spinster maiden, tending to a beggar who’s turned up at her door. She submits to his attentions and his gratitude takes the form of him rogering her absolutely blind. Of course, this might not be a real marine - the garment might be hired or stolen - but there’s something about his bearing that suggests he’s not an actor. James has to forcibly stop himself from inquiring about the man’s service record. This is Jane, he reminds himself. Not James Fitzjames. God knows what the man could say to others. He’s kept this side of himself well away from his naval life. The Barrow scandal is not far from his mind.

But. But. The man’s shoulders are broad, his hands large, thighs thick and muscled. And judging from the bulge, his cock is...is…

Fuck it, James thinks. His own prick is starting to stir. And if the man has anything to say, well, there are enough well-connected men in petticoats and paint in this house who will swear blind that they were all playing billiards and this is a rogue who thought he could blackmail one of the most promising men in the navy. 

“Ma’am…?” 

James strides across the room and grabs the marine by his jacket. He then pulls him towards the bed and shoves him onto the bed. The kiss that follows is without pretence; open mouthed, a clash of tongue and teeth. The other man groans with appreciation, his cock stirring. 

Yes, James thinks, yes, yes yes. It’s thick and hard and he is suddenly desperate to feel it inside him.

“You want it,” the man says. “Dirty - I mean, Ma’am.”

James undoes the jacket’ then makes short work of the man’s trouser buttons. His prick is as glorious as James had hoped and he cannot help but shuffle down and take it into his mouth. The following thrust almost chokes him but he keeps going until the man is gasping beneath him. 

“Jesus, Ma’am - if you want me to have you you’d better leave off before I -”

James is quick and already prepared so he sinks down onto the man’s cock with little trouble. He needs to pause - that hardness is something, the stretch pleasing, the length and angle exquiste - but he sets a brutal pace, riding hard. Sweat drips down his back, leaving the silk damp and clinging. God, he will come like this, cock untouched. 

He closes his eyes, feeling the spark and fire, and then he is spilling into the soft silk of his skirts. He has to keep bite his lip to keep from groaning aloud. He pulls off, rolls onto his back, panting. 

But the other man isn’t finished. Instead, strong hands flip him over and pull him to his knees. James can barely support his own weight, but this is apparently of little concern, as he is penetrated again. The roughness of this fucking is almost unbearable and yet delicious - James is being used, and he loves it, loves that the man chases his finish without pretending he cares for James’s state. 

But it doesn’t last much longer. The man comes with a pleased roar, shuddering through his climax. He pulls out, manhandles James again, shoving him over onto the bed. Then, surprisingly, he wraps his arms around James and peppers his bare neck with kisses and bites. 

“You’ve got me for the night, Ma’am. I hope you’re not going to send me away just yet.”

James’s prick stirs again. Jesus Christ, he thinks. Perhaps I should have started fucking marines years ago. But then he thinks: those goddamn boxes. If he makes a habit of this then he’ll spend most of his life being bent over crates in the hold while the marines on ship take their turn. 

*

“It’s not such a bad thing,” Tozer tells Hickey, much later. He has a very different perspective on events. “Doxies will make you pay extra for going in the back way, but Mollies will pay you. Most of them are as smooth as women anyway.”  
“That sort like strong men to take them as if they are women,” Hickey scoffs, lighting a cigarette. “I like to fuck men as if everyone involved is a man.”  
Tozer glares at him. Hickey shrugs, breathing out smoke.  
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”  
“I’m not a Mary-Anne.”  
“Of course not,” Tozer is getting angry and although they are brothers in conspiracy that will not prevent a fist coming his way, “After all, you’ve been with enough women.”  
Tozer had told him of a “sport” which was two cocks inside some poor doxy’s cunt. Hickey suspects it’s the feeling of another man’s cock rubbing against his that Tozer likes, although he goes on enough about tits and cunts.   
“Yeah,” says Tozer, mollified. “I’ve been with plenty of women.”  
It’s logical that some should like both, although Tozer is very adamant that he does not. It’s of little concern to Hickey, although he admires Tozer’s ability to segregate those parts of himself; his love for cock locked away from any conscious part of himself, like a forgotten chest. It would take a more patient man than himself to prise open that lid.


End file.
